


A Design in Copper and Bronze

by FrostedGemstones22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Battle of Hogwarts, F/M, Ghosts, Hermione/Krum friendship only, Memories, Reflection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedGemstones22/pseuds/FrostedGemstones22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Hermione was reminded of Fred, and one time she wasn't at all. After the war, Hermione wrote down all the memories of those that were lost, but she never wrote down Fred's. Not because she didn't want to remember them, but because she would never forget him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> y first day of college starts tomorrow and what am I doing? Writing fanfiction. Yep. Sums up my life right there. Shit college, scary stuff XD
> 
> Anyway, I've been meaning to do this for awhile. Two things actually, write a '5+1' story (which I see all over Archive of Our Own since going over there as well) and writing one of my most beloved ships of all, Fredmione. For the longest time I didn't know what five things to do, until I decided to do it as a writing exercise and went online and picked six random words. I found it so meant to be that the first word was RED!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, part 1/6. Instead of writing it as a one-shot I had a feeling it would get pretty long, so decided to make it as six smaller parts. Hope this is just as enjoyable as the other way.
> 
> I don't know when this will be updated, but I have a ton of great ideas and it's really small, so hopefully I'll finish this is a timely manner!
> 
> This gets pretty AU from some of the novels, little things to make it fit and all, nothing huge, but you'll see as you read so don't crucify me for not getting something 'right' because I probably did it purposely.
> 
> Enjoy!

I. Red

In the wake of the nightmare, Hermione sat against the wall of her little apartment. Her cold and grimy feet pushed herself up against the eggshell colored wall, her toes sliding across the dusty wooden flooring and in the middle of her breakdown she told herself that she needed to wash the floors better, for she was becoming lazy in her housekeeping. The sun was just hardly peeking out of the murky sky-line of Wizarding London, like the image of a runny sunny-side-up egg in a frying pan, just peaking from liquid to a morphing solid. And the light that spilled onto her sheets almost looked like sour milk, and that was what the back of her mouth tasted of also- the pungent and tell-tale taint of something long forgotten.

But nothing here was forgotten.

No, not the names of those who had died in the Great Battle three months ago, for it was their cries that kept her up at night, and why although she had only moved into this little place a fortnight ago, nearly all the boxes were unpacked and everything was almost in it's place, despite throwing herself into horrid work hours at the Ministry to focus on nothing at all. And tonight she stopped by the place where her quill lay on an old and antique table to pause, looking across the parchment strewn all about, falling into oblivion behind her desk. It was the one place that was untidy, that could not be cleaned. She rifled through the papers, and found the one she was looking for.

Remus trying to replace hot pumpkin juice with hot chocolate in the halls for one day in winter; she wrote. It was her dreams that reminded her. It would have been easy enough had her dreams been of the battle, she could have perhaps lived with that. Instead it was the happiest of memories of the fifty people she had known or loved or seen at least around the school or in town, like wisps of smoke disappearing rapidly from her view before she knew it. And she'd be damned if she let one moment slip by.

Remus had failed, she mused with a slight upturned smile. The school loved their pumpkin juice, and surprisingly hot chocolate wasn't the most well-known of warm drinks to consume. Butterbeer, cider, and other more common wizarding drinks were preferred and the Slytherins nearly had an uproar when they realized that this brown, frothy drink was there in place of what they thought was a covert hiding of their illegal firewhisky to burn the throat.

And even without the illicit drinks, the rest of the school just stared despondantly at their new drink choices. Only the Gryffindors were enthused, but only once they were promised it would only last a day.

In the kitchen, she took out her broom and pail and a used rag with floor cleanser on it. While she could have stayed in the Burrow, for she was always more than welcome, the ghosts of everyone were just too strong. And she needed a fresh place where she could wake up at three-AM and wash the floors vigorously without someone telling her this wasn't healthy, or she should just go back to sleep, or that perhaps she should go and see someone about this.

Hermione was perfectly fine, and she wished that everyone would stop saying such silly things.

Ron and Harry were broken. Harry had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, not like she was surprised. That's the name that she and Harry knew it by, but wizards did not. While they knew quite well what it was, they didn't really ever much have experience with it, much less with a young wizarding lad. Wizards had tried to keep out of World War I and II, mostly because they had the ability not to. As much as a Gryffindor as she was, Hermione was slightly jealous that they had the ability to do that, what with her grandfather having been in the tail-end of the second war and went mad, her father said. She never knew him, he passed away with terrible anxiety and panic attacks up to the last second of his life. He could have been spared, perhaps, if this literally magical gene that had presented itself in her had presented itself in him so many years earlier. Perhaps she even would have known him?

And Ron was depressed. One got depressed, she supposed, when his girlfriend died by the hands of a werewolf. Among other things, of course, he was usually found deep inside his house, staring at the ceiling.

And maybe Hermione had insomnia? What was wrong with that? It was hardly crippling. She was the only one of the three to get a job, to have a pay, to attempt to put herself back into the life that she had before. They would overcome. That was the thing about humans, they always did.

But sometimes that idea seemed so far away. Especially now when she happened to glance out the window of her flat to see the sky bleeding a brilliant gold-red, the exact same color as...

Fred.

And in that moment, Hermione wasn't in the flat anymore. She was in the Gryffindor common room of her fourth year, and the crowd around her was rejoicing in wonderful celebration, most likely a Quidditch win. Hermioen fell short on those details; for it always seemed like the common room was hosting a party. It was as if someone in their house got an A on a test, and her fellow lions felt it appropriate to break out their party hates and dance around the room for the most absurd of reasons.

Hermione recalled everything to be red. The streamers on the walls were red. The ottoman she delicately placed her feet on were red. The color of the blood running down the irresponsible first year's finger (which she had to bandage) was red. The cover on the book she was reading was red. And recalling the day, his hair was the most wonderful red in the room.

The Weasley children all had their own shade to their hair, and although all of it was undoubtably ginger, it was so unique to each child that if someone were to pluck out a hair from each, Hermione could name who it belonged to, if persay this was between life or death. Quite the ridiculous idea of a sort of threat, but yet, Hermione giggled behind her pages all the same.

Bill's hair, although she had yet to meet him in person, was such a fake-red color that when she saw the glimpse of a picture, it reminded her of the shade of cherry cola nearly. She almost asked if he felt the need to make his hair more red from a bottle, but was informed by Percy's narrowed eyes at the response that his hair had always been that color, not matter how outrageously faux it may seem.

Charlie's hair she compared to soft cinnamon. It was like someone took a picture and then subdued the color everywhere, making the edges soft and the colors diluted and drained. It was the idea that if someone were to see this picture at full saturation, it could be the wow-ginger that people usually associated with the Weasley (and even now, it was still enough to make people guess his lineage without any further assistance) but was just a slight reflection in a dirtied mirror.

Percy's hair had highlights of blonde, and was rather the color of the gold when the sun hit against the glass perfectly, the kind of color that you imagined seeing on a perfect picnic day with long dresses and sun-hats and men in slacks and pressed button down shirts rolled up to their elbows. Someone once compared it to a sunset, the soft hues of ginger melting into the pinks and the yellows before it vanished completely. George and Fred scoffed at the lightness in his hair.

"Malfoy trait, gotta be. With all the wizards interbreeding, we must be related to 'em somehow. Acceptable Percy got it. Could you imagine me with Malfoy blond in my hair, Forge?"

Ron's hair was almost brown, such a dark and deep reds that it held in an infinite depth that was opposed to his blue eyes. They were so tranquil and shallow that it seemed as though it was always clear, and always open. There was nothing much that could be held secret in his glance. Yet his hair, for all the silliness of it, seemed to be the difference to that.

Ginny's hair was-

"Want a Red Velvet cupcake?" Fred said, setting the item on the flat pages of her novel. She was glad that there was a paper on the bottom, for Fred had no idea of the fury of Hermione Granger had those little crumbs wedged itself into the bindings of her book.

Red velvet. She mused. That was Ginny's hair. Perhaps not so...burgundy, but it was instead a rich red-brown that glimmered on her scalp once she'd been out on the Quidditch pitch for a couple days and her usual pale skin deepened to a soft and darker color that surpassed the tanning that any of her brothers could ever hope to exceed.

George's hair and Fred's hair looked almost the same on the first, uneducated, passer-by glance. But once one really studied them, along with the other seemingly obvious differences between the pair, George's hair was darker copper, almost like someone had dunked his natural color (Fred's) in water and it had simply never dried. The difference was perhaps three or four shades difference, quite small, but it was one of the things Hermione liked about Fred's hair.

Of all the Weasley's, his was the most perfect shade of red for hair, she had long ago decided. It was that brilliant copper that really did make people stop, made his white skin almost look like porcelain, and lit up his brilliant and sometimes inquisitive green eyes like an exotic flower in the middle of the amazon.

"I suppose that you were't really expecting an answer." She said with a raised eyebrow, as she set her book aside and pulled off the cover. She did have a weakness for red velvet, and she did consider if the most attractive of her Weasley men had known that or if this had simply been a coincidence.

"I snagged the last one. I didn't even think you knew they were there." He sounded proud of himself. She shrugged.

"I didn't. I haven't been over there." She said, looking at the food table.

"You haven't been anywhere." He said, pointing to the worn couch with pieces of fluff falling from the pillows, and threads hanging down all over, "Just there."

"I don't like parties." Hermione said, "I prefer to read. But my bed is not nearly as comfortable as here." She said.

"You would prefer to read to anything." Fred scrunched up his nose, "What dull, boring piece of made-up squiggles are you eating today?" He asked, and Hermione rolled his eyes. Some people were so annoying. She didn't go around critizing his passions of making jokes- well, actually, she did...Even still!

"It's called The Count of Monte Cristo." She said.

"Sounds complicated." Fred tapped his foot, frowning in distaste.

"It is. But it's wonderfully complicated." She agreed, and he glanced up in slight interest.

"Life is wonderfully complicated also. Wouldn't know that, always reading." He said with a raised eyebrow, "Want to dance?"

"Do I want to trip over my own feet while I could be engrossed in a stimulating novel?" She countered.

"You danced with Krum. Are you two going steady or something now?" He asked, putting 'steady' in quotation marks.

Hermione's face blushed hard; but not because she felt any sort of feeling for Krum other than respect and gratefulness for asking her to the Yule Ball earlier that year. Instead it was the glimmer and the gentle smirk on Fred's face that she saw all at once as she had closed her book.

"Not at all." She blubbered, "He's nice and all-,"

"Ron says he's pretentious."

"Ron would think that." Hermione said, wincing at the look on Ron's face when she'd chewed him out for beginning a dance invitation to her with 'Hey, you're a girl, right?' Needless to say, she was still too sore about that, and perhaps had been purposely spending time with Krum to spite Ron. But in all honestly, Krum wasn't a deep and philosophical thinker. He was all bronze and strength and was kind to Hermione and found her endearing and interesting, but both had agreed that they had no romantic interest in each other whatsoever.

"You spend a lot of time with him, though." Fred continued, scrutinizing her, "I suspect you do it to make Ron upset. He really didn't have any class when he attempted to ask you, so perhaps he deserves it. Knock him down a bar or two." He observed.

"Am I that transparent?" Hermione's eyes widened in fear. Perhaps Ron had realized what she was doing, and all of this was for nothing.

"Ron's not that good at noticing things." Fred waved a hand, "How do you think we are able to test our products on him? You think he does it willingly?" Fred laughed loudly. Hermione gave a grunt of agreement.

"You know what would really make him upset?" He continued, and Hermione paused. Was did she really want to continue it any farther? She was quite sure the point was across; she could be very desirable and she was indeed a women. It wasn't even that she liked him, and that was why she was so upset. It was more that she had always thought there was a mutual respect and seemingly understanding and acceptance between the trio. It was clear she was a girl, she had thought, but the idea that Ron had perhaps always only seen her as a less-manly boy in their trio or something akin was more than insulting.

"What?" She decided to ask.

"Dancing with me." Fred said, extending his hand.

"Oh, you think you're so clever." Hermione shook her head, settling back, "I already said I would rather not."

"No really! Think about it; Ron's upset that he couldn't get you to go to a dance with him, but what do you think he'd do when you were willing dancing with me. Like him, his brother, but not him?" He said. It was rather tempting, a little spotty, but Hermione was intrigued.

"And why would you want to make him upset?"

"It's ever so funny." Fred simply shrugged, pulling Hermione to her feet forcefully before she could object and swinging her out to the dance floor.

"I daresay you should have been in Slytherin then." Hermione decided as he twirled her to the lively music.

"Dear Granger, I would, if I didn't enjoy the color red too much." He assured, with a wink and a half serious tone, and then leaned in, "I don't know if I could pull off green and silver, really."

Hermione pulled back for a moment, forgetting to look at Ron to where she was sure he was and paused. She looked him and down.

"Yes." She agreed, seeing his red sweater pulled across his chest, running her fingers up the thread, "I think red suits you quite well."

She blinked back to the dawn of the new day, and looked at the jumble of sheets. She gently brushed back the pages to reveal Fred's name on the top of a blank parchment.

Hermione didn't need to write down everything she remembered about Fred. To begin with, that would occupy a million novels. Secondly, she didn't need to be recalled of anything about him. All their memories, even some of his own, were stored under lock and key in the most important part of her mind.

The place that held the memories of the heart.


	2. Italy

II. Italy

The summer air was balmy in Diagon Alley, and Hermione's heels clacked over the cobble-stone pathways. She had to say, with a hint of smugness, that learning to navigate the difficult rode in heels was just a strength of hers since coming to live with Wizards. Even witches that grew up here, born knowing their powers, stumbled over it or opted for more reasonable foot attire.

And often, Hermione wouldn't have even troubled with heels. Her desire to wear such things except to work, which she floo'd every day, had diminished after the war to even less than before, and that itself was a feat of achievement. For months, she'd felt no wish to go out and look good, to mingle with others, to push herself back into the world of the living and breathing. It had simply been easier to wallow among the memories of the dead.

But she couldn't say no tonight; it was cause for celebration. Ron and Harry both finished Auror training and would begin the real heavy-duty stuff the next week, and Harry and Ginny were engaged. They were up a head, noses nearly touching as they ducked and spoke in low voices, his arm swung around her shoulders in an effortless way. Ron was a bit behind her, giggling with whichever witch was his newest conquest so far, and from a quick glance back to see the red hair and yellow dress, Hermione deduced Susan Bones. They couldn't have been seeing each other for more than two weeks, as last she'd heard at that time he and his last girlfriend- a Ravenclaw girl three years ahead of them- had parted ways. Hermione knew that his mother was upset by his flings; she wanted him to settle down like almost all the other members of his family. Hermione was more forgiving; she understood that grief was a funny thing that needed to be treated by each person differently.

Mrs. Wealsey also hoped Hermione and Ron would get together, he'd marry a sensible girl like her, but that was never going to happen.

Percy and his girlfriend Penelope had been speaking with Hermione to keep her company for awhile, but after Penelope had seen someone recently released from St. Mungo's that was an old classmate, she'd ran off saying she'd catch them at the dinner place later, and Percy had trailed after.

For a couple steps, Hermione hugged her arms even though the air was warm and inviting, the sun still bright in the sky. There was a familiar presence beside her, one that made her heart flood with a silly hope all at once, then have it dashed with the slightly deeper voice of the person she always expected it foolishly to be.

"Are you doing okay, Hermione?" George asked quietly, his eyes soft.

"I'm fine, George." Hermione assured, dropping her arms to her sides, "But...thanks for asking." George gave her a supportive smile.

"It's good you're here, you know. We haven't seen much of you." He said. Hermione gave a shrug.

"Work's busy." She dismissed him swiftly.

"Not just that; Mum would really love for you to stop by for more than just a quick visit home and such. She misses you at the dinner table." George said. Hermione offered a dim smile.

"Did your mother put you up to saying that?" She asked with a soft chuckle, knowing Mrs. Weasley wouldn't hesitate to send a son out with her messages and not so subtle encouragements.

"No, I can see it. Even Bill and Charlie make efforts to come back you know, more seats that aren't left alone, sitting out, waiting for someone." His tone changed, "One of those is enough."

Hermione flinched violently.

"You know very well why I don't come back." Hermione said, trying to look as though she and Geroge were chatting absently about something unimportant.

"I do." George had long ago stopped trying to point out he'd lost a brother too, but then again, people had known his love for Fred. Hermione and Fred had always been in the shadows, only a select few had known, but hardly anyone in perspective. He sometime soon realized having to pretend all the time that the empty seat was just a missing friend, not a missing lover, was agonizing. He dropped the subject after that, but his face made Hermione feel slightly guilty and required to add,

"But thanks for reminding me. One day..." She trailed off, giving a pained smile, "I'll be able to come back."

"Mum will always welcome you, but I'm sure you know that." George said, brightening a bit.

"Here we are, guys!" Ron called from the back, and Hermione had been so caught up with her conversation to George she'd hardly noticed where they'd been taken. When she did, she felt her breath catch in her throat, and she knew her reaction was so irrational, but yet-

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry had turned, seeing Hermione's pale face and the thin film of sweat beading on her forehead, plus her shaking hands.

"Oh," Ginny looked up, frowning slightly, "Hermione has a thing against Italian places." She used her fingers to put the word thing in quotation marks. Ron gave a bark of laughter from behind, causing Hermione to feel a surge of anger, although she was sure it wasn't meant meanly, it did sound utterly ridiculous when Ginny said it like that.

"Seriously, Mione?" Ron questioned, scratching his head, "You ate Italian food at the Great Hall..."

"I think it had to do with restaurants that are of the Italian brand, specifically," Ginny interjected, speaking about it as if Hermione wasn't standing there, "Something to do with a bad experience at one as a child, right Hermione?" She asked. Hermione nodded softly, recalling what she'd told Ginny not long ago, only a week after the Great Battle, to be exact.

"Well, that's-," Ron began to say, but cut off swiftly, and Hermione was sure he realized whatever he was going to say would be rude, and pursed his lips, "I mean, it's sort of weird, Hermione. I could understand against a particular place but..."

"Don't let this ruin anything on your account." Hermione said, forcing a smile, "Ginny exaggerates. I've heard only good things about this place. Should be good." She said, every sentence she spoke more and more mechanical in her mind, falser as they went on. George saw right through it, and he conveyed it with a soft frown, but Hermione would hate for a reason for celebration to be ruined because she...

(Hermione held her breath as they sat in the authentically Italian restaurant, feeling her temperature rise steadily until she quietly excused herself saying she needed to leave the loo and once she was out of sight all but ran there.)

...Was reminded of Fred in every inch of this place.

She tried to hold onto her emotions for as long as she could, reign them in to stew softly, and she made it until the waiter took their orders. At this point, Hermione softly excused herself to use the loo, and from the faces of her friends, no one seemed to find anything amiss. The loo was a single person, luckily, and Hermione locked the door behind her, leaning against the door (the least dirty part, assumedly) and her fingers knotted in her hair.

"Damn it..." She cussed, feeling faint.

You're being quite silly Hermione, her more sensible self scolded, Italian food is normal. Hating it solely on a date years ago is being oversensitive. You need to go out there and finnish this dinner. It's unhealthy not to.

"Shut up, shut up..." She hissed to herself, but it was no use. A wave of pleasant memories turned into heartbreak washed over her eyes.

Hermione arrived at Fred's flat above his joke-shop at exactly 8pm, as he'd told her. She knocked once and in mid-knock, the door swung open to a very unprepared Fred Weasley staring at her with face half-shaved, toothbrush in mouth, and a towel around his waist.

"You're...early." He said, and as if suddenly realizing his attire, grabbed the towel to keep it from falling. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You did say eight right, or did I get that wrong." A flush of red bloomed across her face at the idea she'd come early and caught him in such a state of undress.

"No, but," Fred shifted uneasily, taking the toothbrush out, "Well, usually when I tell a girl 8 she arrives at 8:30, so I figured i had a bit more time." He admitted. Hermione stifled a laugh.

"I'm not other girls, Fred." She reminded with a smirk. He chuckled too, shrugging.

"No, you're not, I suppose. I forget." He winked, "Well, come on in. Make yourself at home, dear Hermione."

Hermione came in, still half-way glancing at his state.

"Well, does this mean our dinner reservation isn't until 9? Do I have to sit around waiting for you to get dressed for half an hour?" Hermione questioned, looming uneasily in his doorway. Fred had ducked back into the bathroom and she heard a bark of laughter from him.

"Dinner reservations?" She heard the uplift of his tone, and frowned in confusion.

"Yes, you asked me if I would like to go out and get Italian with you tonight, or have you or I messed that up too?" She asked, throwing herself on his lumpy couch and shrugging off her jacket. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him poke his head out of the door, dabbing his face with a towel.

"You misheard, Hermione." There was a smugness to his voice, something she couldn't quite place, "I believe my words were more or less would you like to go out with me- as in a date- and have Italian food."

Hermione's eyes widened with an awful thought, "We're not getting take-out, are we? Because if that's what you meant, by Merlin, Fred...you sure know how to charm girls." But then again, what should she have expected? Fred, the known trouble-maker, taking her out for a nice, classy Italian meal? Well, it had been a bit difficult for ever her to imagine when he first asked on the last day of her 5th year, after the trains had taken them back to the Burrow.

Fred gave a soft scoff, "Do you have no faith in me, woman?" He asked, and Hermione turned to throw him a half-apologetic, half-smirking smile, and a tiny shrug. He just grinned in response, coming out of the bathroom in a button-down shirt and dress pants, fastening the tiny buttons at his sleeves. She had to admit a wave of warmth flooded over her body; he cleaned up nicely.

"I take it you're not very observant today, then." He said, nodding to his left. Hermione titled her head and looked where he glanced, seeing a small table done up all fancy; the golden candle-holders, flowers, nice china, roses...the works, "I'm cooking, Hermione." There was pride in his voice, but Hermione stood, startled.

"You...cooking?" She asked uneasily. She half worried his food would turn her hair magenta or make her smell like bubblegum for three days. Fred casually took her coat, hanging it by the door.

"There's that tone again, you really think I'm basically incompetent, huh?" He questioned, shaking his head a bit, going into the small kitchen where now- if she had actually been paying attention- she would have realized there were a couple pots boiling on the stove as it were. Or she'd assumed they were for George.

"Well, can you blame me? Most guys couldn't tell me a tomato from an apple, let alone cook a decent Italian meal." She said, feeling a bit guilty, but defended herself all the same.

"Give me a bit of credit Granger." He said, and when he saw her expression, he sighed almost knowingly, "Look, can you at least acknowledge that the stuff George and I make takes a bit of ingenuity and intelligence? Or everyone would be making it."

"Well, yeah, the stuff you make...it's quite complex." She agreed, "The components are something very time-consuming." She'd known because she'd tried to dissect, with little effort, the inner-workings of how he make the Puking candies, and the little she'd accomplished had floored her.

"It's like cooking, advanced potions. But most of this stuff has to be pretty safe for all ages, like food." He said, thinly chopping. Hermione came and sat at a stool at the island where he was preparing, "And, whenever Mum caught George and I doing something wrong, she'd send us to the kitchen to help her." He added.

"By that rule, you should be a famous chef by now." Hermione giggled. Fred looked up, grinning.

"Maybe. I had to teach myself a bit though, mum's good, but not five-star, you know? Anyway, being the superior twin as it were, I caught on quickly. Poor old George still could burn water if you sent him to cook." Fred said, his movements cautious, timed, well-planned- three verbs Hermione never imagined that she'd ever use to describe Fred. He was full of surprises tonight.

"So then what is it, oh brilliant chef, what we will be eating tonight?" She asked. He shook his fingers.

"Can't ruin the surprise, Granger." He teased, "You're just going to have to trust me, just once, alright? Think you can do that? Or is the prefect in you judging every move I make?"

"Well, not every move." Hermione straightened. She realized she felt very comfortable here, the banter with Fred at his apartment, something that had previously terrified her at the very idea. She had been a nervous wreck before using the floo over to Diagon Alley, sure it was going to go awful tonight. Yet...here and now, it all just sort of was clicking. She wasn't' even making an effort to calm down, it just simply was. Fred seemed more nervous than she was, which was bit concerning since he was the one with a very sharp knife.

It was refreshing, however, to know her pinning weren't for naught, or she wasn't seeing the signs of something that wasn't there. Truthfully, after that dance in the common rooms, Hermione noticed Fred in a way she hadn't before. For a bit, it seemed as though it was just an act of kindness, Fred swooping in as a white knight to save a poor, wall-flower bound bookworm. But then, she began to see a change. Softer in his teasings, advice, little things that were pretty insignificant to Hermione at first. They could also just be mistaken as routine kindness.

But Fred wasn't kind to Hermione, not like that, not like it before. And in those moments, she couldn't help but question...why?

And when she woke up one morning, and Fred in the Great Hall whipped out her favorite blueberry muffin, saying he saved it from the vultures of the Gryffindor table like Ron who ate everything in sight, she realized she maybe was a bit over her head for she liked him.

And what a novel idea that was.

Oh, one knows how it happens after that. Hermione became hyper-sensitive to his every movement, she found herself distracted by his small characteristics when he studied across from her in the common room, she found herself hanging back just to get a moment to exchange in teasing banter with him. But she was somewhat comforted in the progressive thought that this was different from the normal too for him; he hadn't been like this months ago, so if there was a chance, it was likely for a reason. Hermione just hoped it was the reason she wanted.

But Hermione wasn't going to make the first move, Merlin no! She told herself firmly she'd get over him if it was just a fling, a school-boy flirting with no intention of going farther. When he left before he graduated in a flurry of magic and rules broken, Hermione found herself grinning, but a bit sad. She was happy Umbridge got what was coming, but well...she thought it was pretty much the end.

Until he'd asked her to this dinner in summer.

"Earth to Hermione," Fred was waving a hand in front of her face, and Hermione startled, realizing she'd wandered off with her thoughts, "Were you thinking of something good, like me?"

Fred was so unapologetically teasing, especially for a first date, but there was an easiness as if this had been them for so long it was okay. It sort of was, they had years of a slight friendship under their belts before asking her out. Hermione was too embarrassed, though, to admit he'd hit the nail right on the head so settled for a sharp look his way and a roll of he eyes with a sigh.

"Not everything's about you." She reminded, standing at the smell of dinner, assuming it was ready.

"I'm offended. Most things are about me." Fred said, although she could tell he wasn't really serious, and he pulled out her chair for her like a gentlemen.

The dinner was not wholly what Hermione expected, but in hindsight, probably what she should have been. It was an Italian feast like she'd never had before; Fred mixed foods together that at one point Hermione would have thought impossible to mix as one, but when she tasted it, it was literally one of the most delicious combinations she'd ever experienced. She accidentally let out a little moan during the main course, and when she happened to look up right after, Fred's face was as red as the sauce.

He recovered quickly, "Save those sounds for the bedroom, okay?" He smiled softly, and Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Men.

But, both unexpectedly and totally reasonably, the conversation which once had been light and teasing spun to a darker tone soon. It was hard not to, what with the looming threat of Voldemort hanging over their heads now that he was truly back, or the fact they both were supporting Harry...by whatever means necessary.

"If me and you dated normally, in a world without this, we might think to tell people." Fred's tone was so quiet, so unlike him it made a deep fear swell inside Hermione's throat.

"Oh, so sure you're going to get a second date, then?" She teased, hoping to return to the happier ideas of them, but deep down, she knew this conversation was inevitable. Fred gave her a sad smile, shrugging.

"I think so." He said softly, his fingers caressing over her soft hands, "You know what I'm saying, though?" He asked cautiously, "Don't think for a second it's not that I wouldn't want to."

"No," Hermione was quite honestly floored by his maturity, it was very unlike the boys her age she knew, or what she would have expected from Fred at all, but as it were, he was constantly surprising her tonight, "I understand...I agree, too. It's bad enough that we chose to put ourselves into this mess, but to pull you into it..." Hermione looked up, her eyes hallow.

"I'm already quite the target," Fred assured with a soft chuckle, "Helping Harry and being Ron's brother, I'm sure I'd be the perfect hostage or leverage. But you...I wish you wouldn't help Harry, but I know if I told you not to, you'd likely not listen and break my nose for even suggesting that."

"Darn right," Hermione agreed with a raised eyebrow.

"Until this all floods over, until he's really gone once again, it will be a secret...us." Fred whispered, his whole face dropping.

"Hey," Hermione frowned, standing up to come over to his side, "It's not forever." Fred nodded at her words, brightening so slightly.

"No, you're right." He agreed after a long moment, "On the day we win the war, I'll kiss you in front of everyone and most likely propose, you know." He teased. Hermione gave a loud laugh.

"Wow, marriage on the first date. You don't mess around, do you?"

"I make a joke out of almost everything in my life." Fred informed her in faux-solemnity, "Except you."

"Well..." Hermione stood, "I'm pleased to hear you think of me so highly. Isn't it time for dessert?" She asked. Fred got up, grinning.

"A woman after my own heart."

At the end of dinner and the date, Hermione hovered in the doorframe cautiously, not wanting to make the first move but unwilling to leave just quite yet. Fred was finishing washing the dishes, and when he came over, for the first time he seemed unconfident, younger, unsure.

"Hermione?" His voice was small, soft, "Are you ah...are you a kiss on the first date type of girl?" He asked with a leer grin.

"Are you?" She asked, nervously biting her lip.

"No." He said, and Hermione's hopes dropped, but then a wide grin split across his face, "I'm not a girl, quite honestly, if you were hoping for that, I think you're going to be quite disappointed-,"

Hermione grabbed his shirt, bringing him down to her level, "You git." She laughed, pulling him into kiss him. His hands slid up to cup her face, pulling her in tighter. Absolute glee sprung from her chest, twining them together in a wonderful circle of-

"Ahem..." There was a cough behind them. Hermione jumped back, and Fred swung around to look into the hall to see who had disturbed them. George stood, smiling like an idiot at the two of them, a large box in his hands.

"George!" Fred growled in frustration, running his fingers through his red hair, "I told you to be home no earlier than 11."

"It is 11, bro." George said, and then looked at his watch, "Oh, guess not. Berlin, different time zones, simple mistake. Now can I get through, this box is heavy, and if you want me to drop it-,"

"No, no..." Fred and Hermione were silent as George passed through them, mumbling quiet apologizes.

"Fred, should I be concerned about whatever thing your brother picked up from Germany?" Hermione raised an eyebrow once he was out of ear-shot, and Fred just winked.

"That's a secret, Granger. So I suppose the mood is ruined now?"

Hermione scrunched her nose, "Little bit." She agreed, "So I'll see you around? I'll be at the burrow quite a bit, you know."

Fred nodded enthusiastically, "I am going to get you on a broom this summer, Hermione. I swear it."

Hermione gave a small grunt. "We'll see." She was just about to leave when she heard George reappear from whatever room he'd put the box.

"Aww, Freddie, you two are adorable!" He said. Hermione couldn't help looking back at Fred to see his face brightly shaded once again.

"Shuddup, dude."

Hermione just giggled.

Her giggling continued into real-time, where she sat back up, and wiped her teary eyes on the back of her shirt. She stood, going to the mirror and splashed some cold water on her face to make it look less like she'd been crying. She opened the door to see George standing there, just about to knock.

"You...okay?" He asked awkwardly.

Hermione observed him with a frown, "Did they elect you to come bring me back?" she questioned, avoiding his own inquiry.

"No, I'm concerned. No one else has noticed, hasn't been that long, but you looked really upset over dinner." He said.

"George, I'm okay." She insisted.

"Italian was what Fred cooked for you, that first date, wasn't it?" He asked. Hermione pursed her lips, brushing by him.

"Really, was it?" She feigned ignorance, "I couldn't have told you. I was thinking about other things that night."

"Hermione..." George's sound of distress sounded so similar to Fred's that it caused her to turn, "It's okay to be upset, and please know, out of anyone...you can talk to me..."

"Thanks George." Hermione truly meant it, though she wasn't about to take his offer up, not now, "I should get back to the table. Kind of hungry." She lied. George sighed.

"Okay." He sounded slightly frustrated, but let her go. But she couldn't help but turn back, tilting her head.

"George?" She asked. He turned sharply, looking a bit excited.

"Yes?"

"What was in that box, the one from Berlin?" She asked, smiling, "I've been wondering about that forever and Fred, well, he never told me."

George looked initially shocked, but it wore off and he gave a hearty laugh, as though he couldn't believe out of all the questions in the world, she picked that one.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was smuggling dragon eggs?" He asked with a waggle of his eyebrow. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No, not really."

"What about a rare and illegal nut that only grows every third sunday in February?" He questioned.

"Fine, don't tell me." Hermione giggled, waving him off, and sighed as he left, "Perhaps some things are better left secret anyways..."


	3. Journalist

"I can't believe it," Ron chuckled, leaning back on Hermione's chairs so far she thought he might tip over, "First day in eons Hogwarts hasn't housed a Weasley." He chuckled.

"Merlin, you're right." Ginny realized with a laugh, seeing as she'd graduated the previous May, "McGonagall must be having a celebration down there."

"Or marking the days until Victorite arrives, ten glorious Weasley-free years." Harry snickered and Hermione found herself laughing too. She imagined how relieved McGonagall must have felt, not having to deal with annoying red-heads for at least a decade to spare. She held a secret smile beneath her lips, watching the way Harry, Ron, and Ginny interacted with each other. To them, the horrors of war were far behind them. It was almost as though it never happened at all.

"Speaking of which, when are you two going to make some Weasleys by way of blood?" Ron waved his fork to Ginny and Harry, "Mum is really looking forward to some heroic grandchildren, she won't shut up about it!"

"Oh, Ron." Ginny blushed scarlet, "We're not even married yet! One step at a time." She did look down at her fancy new ring, though.

"We can wait a bit." Harry said, taking a more serious tone, "You're just as heroic you know." He pointed out. Ron gave a 'meh' and waved his hand.

"What ever happened with your last girlfriend?" Hermione broke in, "Susan, wasn't it?" She recalled seeing the the girl at the Italian place with Ron about two months ago, and hadn't known what had occurred since. But he hadn't brought her here tonight, so Hermione had to assume they weren't together.

"Oh, you know." Ron swirled his wine around in his glass, "This and that."

It was a completely unhelpful answer, but Hermione sensed he didn't want to bother with it.

"Right." She said dryly, but allowed him to get away from the topic.

"This is your eight girlfriend since the war ended, right?" Ginny's tone was less forgiving.

"So, what of it?"

"I'm just saying-," She began, but Harry slapped a hand over her mouth.

"She's not saying anything." Harry gave her a meaningful stare, and she gave a long roll of her eyes, "Whatever you got to do, mate."

"Thanks." Ron looked a little embarrassed, "It's not like I don't want to settle down, Harry- and Ginny, and Hermione," He addressed them all, "I just...can't find the right one. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Mum still thinks you and Hermione would make a smashing pair." Ginny broke in, coughing loudly. Hermione and Ron gave each other horrified glances.

"Hermione?" He recoiled, and Hermione made a similar motion, "I just...I don't think so. Something just...well, she feels taken." He admitted ruefully, "Sorry, I mean-,"

"No, it's quite alright. I don't feel that way about you either." She didn't want to tell him her heart was already taken by his older brother, and she might never feel the way she felt about Fred about anyone else. She didn't want to tell him every day was a dull agony without him, and seeing Ron and Ginny reminded her of his intoxicating scent that wafted from his hair after a shower. She didn't want any of them to see how broken she still felt, despite all her best efforts.

"Hmm," Ginny narrowed her eyes, "I was kind of hoping you'd be Weasley too, Hermione. Can't hurt trying." She admitted, waving the question away. Hermione bit her lip. She was going to be, at one time. The ring Fred had given her was tightly packed away in her jewelry box, and she hadn't the heart to look at it since he had died, "But there has to be someone else in your life, surly?"

"Erm, no." Hermione clasped her hands, "I just...I"m not ready."

"Not ready?" Ron echoed, "Wasn't the last person you dated Krum? That was in forth year!"

"Ron, c'mon. I think Hermione's pretty happy in her own little space doing whatever Hermione wants to do, aren't you?" He gave a knowing glance toward her. She had always wondered if Harry had picked up on her and Fred, or at the very least, the essence of the idea. And it was true, she did love her little loft.

"Yes!" Her eyes glimmered brightly, "I just...it soothes me. I apologize I haven't had any of you over sooner," A year and a handful of months, if she was being exact, "But I wanted this to be perfect."

"It is." Ginny reached over, taking her hand, "You could photograph this and put it in a magazine and every witch would be jealous! Some wizards too."

Hermione glowed with the complement. She had long ago decided that she was going to live here, so she might as well be as happy here as she could be. Also, throwing herself into home DIY projects kept her mind busy while she wasn't at work. Over the past year and a half, she had worked tirelessly until her flat was everything she'd made on her dream-boards as a child in the space allotted. It was a place that she could see herself staying indefinitely, even alone. She frankly wasn't sure she could imagine a place in the future with someone besides Fred. She knew that he wouldn't want her to be unhappy without him, loveless, but deep down she didn't mind being alone.

"I don't think so, but it's nice to hear you say that." Hermione said gracefully.

"And you brushed up on your cooking too." Ron shoved a piece of meat into his mouth, "I don't recall you cooking like this at Hogwarts."

As part of keeping herself sane, she had learned how to cook good food. She enjoyed that too; having a list and a way to do things, having a timer and a schedule and instructions. It was those sorts of simple things Hermione found grace within.

"I didn't much have chance." Hermione gave a bark of laughter, "Hogwarts has such delicious food..."

"Mh, I do miss it." Ginny winced, "And I thought I was ready to leave there. But I'd go back if only to have their meals."

"Who wouldn't?" Ron had finished his plate and had taken seconds.

There was a knock at the door.

"Oh! That must be the prophet." Hermione said, "Just a minute-,"

Ron came barreling past her, catching her off guard. She looked at Harry and Ginny in confusion, but both were staring where he'd zipped past her, open jawed. She ran after him into the main area to see the paper was gone. She heard the sound a crackling flame and burst into her living room to see Ron attempting to burn the paper in the fireplace.

"Ronald!" She scolded, "What are you doing?" She tried to push him aside, but Ron put a protective barrier around himself. She scowled; his days as an Aurora had strengthened his skills, making it harder to break through.

"You don't really need this, do you? It's basically the same every day." He sputtered, watching frantically as the paper curled in on itself.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, coming behind Hermione.

"Ron just burned the prophet for no reason what so ever!" Hermione wasn't even upset, not truly- it was a paper after all, but she was gobsmacked at the least. Ron's actions were out of character, and odd!

"I had a reason." He snapped, lowering his shield once the paper was a pile of ashes.

"Oh?" Ginny tapped her foot, "Pray tell."

"Uh..."

"We have to see what that paper says." Harry said, coming to stand behind Ginny, "It's probably delivered at my apartment. I'm going to pop over there." He said, and Ron lunged desperately as he popped away.

"Ron, what is going on?" Ginny demanded.

"Nothing, nothing at all!" His face was as red as a tomato.

"Well, obviously not!" Hermione interjected, "Really, Ron!" She sighed.

Harry popped back into the room, a wide smirk on his face.

"Harry!" Ron jumped for it, but Harry thew it to Hermione, who put up a stronger shield around herself so she could look at the page.

"Oh, oh my." She felt her whole body turn red with a little bit of embarrassment to be seeing such photos, but at the same time she was so amused by the situation she couldn't help but giggle.

"Well, what is it?" Ginny demanded, "What does it say?"

"It's not as much as what it says," Harry said carefully, looking at Ron with a full-on-grin, "As what it shows."

Hermione turned the front page around, and Ron's face turned ashen. Ginny came closer.

"War Hero Playing For the Other Team?" She said, "That's not very creative-oh!" She snatched the page away as Hermione lowered the shield, "Ron, Merlin, where did this photographs come from?"

The picture below it was Ron in a very compromising position with Anthony Goldstien with very little clothes on, and some bits blurred out for the safety of children.

"I was set up, okay?" He blurted, "A little drunk. They put me in that position."

"So what? You were going to burn every Prophet in town? Or just mine? We would have found out eventually." Hermione asked logically. Harry took the paper from Ginny's hands.

"Besides, Rita wrote it. I mean, no one believes anything she says. We all know she makes things up, Ron."

"I guess, I just...I'm just really, you know." Ron rubbed his palms over his eyes, then sighed, "She does make some pretty crazy headlines. And I never believed any of them." Slowly, he talked himself down, "So...no one else will, I guess?"

"Of course not! And if they would, it would be to laugh at the ridiculousness of it later. Like, remember when she wrote a whole book on Dippet?"

"He sort of was a moron," Harry rubbed the back of his neck, "But I mean, most of the stuff in that book was bollocks. Remember when she tried to convince everyone Malfoy was actually a werewolf?"

"Or the time she wrote a not-very-convincing piece that Lee Jordan might be a female?"

"Didn't she write an article explaining that the secret behind Ravenclaw intelligence was a potion made from armpit hair of Hogwarts professors?"

"Oh! I remember when she wrote something for Witch Weekly and interviewed Hannah Abbott and made it sound like Hannah's trick to beautiful blonde hair was kissing handsome men?"

Soon, the group of four were nearly rolling on the ground in laughter recalling Skeeter's most outrageous articles, each one trumping the last. There were some Hermione had never even read and might have thought they were just making up for comedic timing, but knowing Skeeter actually believed them. She hadn't recalled the last time she had laughed so hard it hurt to breathe; everyone was jumping over each other to yell favorite lines she'd written, because some were so memorable that even after years her utter silliness resonated within them still. Merlin, Hermione needed this so bad, this laughter, this cathartic relieving of pressure upon them.

"Oh!" Ron held up a finger in between gasping for breath, "I got one, I can't believe no one's brought it up! Remember when she wrote a paper claiming that our Hermione," He motioned to Hermione who was wiping laughter tears from her cheeks, "And our brother Fred were in a secret relationship?"

To Hermione, the room grew cold in that instant. Her breath caught, and she felt like she was outside her own body, watching her face contort and Harry, Ron, and Ginny fail to notice as the trio broke out in laughter again, and she knew- oh, she just knew- she had to fake a laugh unless she felt ready to let everything out, which she wasn't nearly ready to do yet.

"That was...that was in our sixth year, yeah?" Harry asked looking to Hermione for confirmation.

"Oh, I don't really recall. I didn't even read it-," Hermione flubbed. She had read it. She still had it, in a box with the ring, growing yellow on the ends, "You know, there was another really funny article about-,"

"I mean, Fred and Hermione?" Ginny said, and Hermione bit her lip, seeing none were going to let this one go, "Where did she ever get that idea?"

"Sometimes I honestly think she puts key words in a hat and picks them and makes a story from there." Harry said, "Like she just randomly pulled Fred and and Hermione's name out and thought the easiest way to get them both together was to give them an illicit romance." Harry wiggled his fingers.

"She had a picture though, too." Ginny frowned in concentration, "If I remember."

"Obviously faked." Ron rolled his eyes, "I don't know if you and Fred even talked to each other that much, yeah?" Everyone looked at Hermione. She felt time slipping away before things became awkward, or they started asking questions.

"Yeah." She agreed weakly, "Just...I need to use the loo. Anyone want anything to drink?" She asked, forcing a smile.

"Do you have any Butter beer?" Ginny tilted her head and when Hermione nodded Ginny gave a motion to indicate she wanted that, "Thanks!"

Hermione nodded mutely, stumbling toward the bathroom. Instead, she turned sharply into her bedroom, locking the door. She had been doing so good! But hearing them talk like that, recalling that paper when it came forth...that broke her like nothing else. She curled up on her bed, opening the box that held the page, and staring at the photograph of her and Fred. It hadn't been doctored, that one had been real.

It was the two of them, glancing around to make sure no one was there, and then giving each other a warm smile. It wasn't much, of course, and this kept her and Fred able to deny their relationship, because a fond look in one's way doesn't truly mean much. She sucked in a hard breath. She wished they'd just told everyone that day; perhaps she wouldn't be in as much pain now...

"Fred..." Hermione whimpered, feeling his hands slide underneath her shirt, "Your hands are cold." She shivered.

"Not for long." He trailed them up, pressing them against the heat of her stomach, just tickling the edges of her bra. Her eyes looked nervously toward the door, although the way he was kissing her neck was sensual enough to almost make her worries vanish...almost.

"Fred, anyone could walk in!" She hissed.

"They won't." Fred whispered against her collar bone confidently, "Not with the store being as busy as it is."

"What if they run out of things, huh?" Hermione argued, looking at the stock she was surround by, "If it's so busy?"

Fred pulled back, a smirk on his face.

"But Hermione, you have to pay me back for this daydream charm." He reached, fishing the object from her pocket, "I can't just go around giving things away for free. Besides, your kind of payment is very desirable and one of a kind. Ron surely couldn't pay for his things in the same way." He winked, a gentle smile on his face.

"I never said I wouldn't." She smiled, "I just...Harry, Ron, and Ginny and I came here together. They must be wondering where I'm off to by now." She said.

"They'll figure you got lost." Fred said, without missing a beat, taking one hand out to curl in her hair.

"Oh, the shop's not that big." Hermione rolled her eyes. They weren't idiots, of course!

"Hermione," Fred gave a long sigh, "I just want to spend a little time with my secret girlfriend. Is that too much to ask?"

Truthfully, they hadn't seen each other much since he had 'graduated' and Hermione had returned for her sixth year. It was Christmas break, and Hermione gleefully accepted Mrs. Weasley's invitation to spend it with them, although surely not for the reasons she assumed. They had stopped off at the twin's joke shop first thing off the train, and within ten minutes of the four of them ambling around, Fred had grabbed her wrist and very carefully pulled Hermione into the storage room/inventing room where he'd pushed her against a table and-Merlin- kissed her in a way that made her knees weaken and entire body feel warm.

And Hermione would have loved to continue it, if it were reasonable. But the last thing either of them wanted to do was get caught...

"We could go upstairs? You could tell them that you'd be at the Burrow later; you needed to get a set of new books or something. Late Christmas shopping. Make it up, Granger...George is gone, we have the place to ourselves..." He whispered in her ear. Although Hermione rarely lied, and was often awful at it to begin with, it took her less than ten seconds to decide.

She crept out of the store room, and found Harry and the rest.

"Hermione! There you are."

"I just recalled," She said, trying to seem flustered. It worked, because her cheeks were still red and her palms still sweating from that absolutely mind-melting kiss, "I totally forgot a Christmas gift! You all go on without me, I'll be at the Burrow later tonight." She said.

"How are you going to get there? I could stay with you." Ginny offered, "Or Ron or Harry."

"What? I have-I mean, sure Hermione." Ron began to protest, until Ginny elbowed him.

"Of course." Harry said, "If you want someone to."

"No need, I'll be there later too." Fred seemed to come out of nowhere, "I mean, I don't mind taking her along with me."

"Thank Merlin!" Ron said, "No offense, but Mum has a really good welcome home lunch and I wouldn't want to miss it." Ron said. At another time, Hermione would be offended. But now, she was giddy Ron was so enthralled by food.

"Oh, we wouldn't want you missing that!" She said dramatically, "You two should go to. What if I'm getting a gift for either one of you?" She asked, grinning.

"Are you?" Harry asked, and then she put on a devious smile, "Oh."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Ginny questioned.

"Positive. It's not far from here, and I might go to the bookshop too. It's perfectly safe." She assured.

"If you're sure..." Ginny chewed on her lip, "Walk you out?"

"Sure." Hermione agreed, and Fred trailed them, talking to Ron.

"Tell mum to save some ham for me, oh and some of her pie." He was saying.

"Are you kidding? Leftover pie? Keep dreaming, bro." Ron punched him lightly, affectionately, "See you tonight." Harry and Ginny both waved goodbye to Fred, as did Hermione as normally as she could. Yet as she left, she risked a look back at him, filled with warmth and want and utter love that Fred gave back, unbeknownst to them that Rita was photographing across the street.

Hermione let the trio drop her off at a Quidditch store, and did buy something for Harry, for she hadn't yet gotten his gift. She figured a reasonable amount of time had passed and sneaked back to the store, but around the back. It was a smart move, for had she gone back right away, Rita would have gotten her with her own key to Fred' apartment, and that would have made things extremely difficult to deny in the papers. Luckily, Rita had already flitted away to write the steamy romance between The Golden Girl and the Sidekick's Other Brother, leaving Hermione free in her liaison.

She gave a silent prayer of gratitude that George was gone until tomorrow on business. She waited only for about an hour or so until she head Fred tell Verity, "Hey, I got some stuff to take care of. I'll be in my flat above. If things get really busy, come up but be sure to knock, got it?" He asked. She couldn't hear the reply of the store-owner, but she heard Fred coming up the stairs so she assumed things were under control.

He threw the door open, a grin spiraling on his face when he saw Hermione lounging on the couch.

"Hey. I don't know how much time I'll be able to have before things get crazy again, but it's getting later, so I hope most of the kids from Hogwarts are done and all." He said.

"Don't apologize. I love that your doing so well!" Hermione breathed, grinning ear to ear, "I'm so proud."

"I am too, but right now, I'd rather be up here than down there making sales. I'd close the whole shop if it meant being able to do this with you." He said, leaning down and pulling her against his chest and kissing her fiercely. She mumbled a half-serious 'Fred' of scolding, but felt his will- and the fact that now no one was going to walk in on them and they were completely alone- melting any protests she may have.

The full realization of their aloneness hit her suddenly.

After their first kiss the past summer, things had progressed rather swiftly between them. For one, Fred was no child, and Hermione wasn't either, only being one month shy of an adult when they had their first kiss, and it wasn't as though either were naive little first-years; Hermione knew fully well what adult relationships were. Most strangely, and totally unexpected, she had found herself craving that sort of intimacy with him. With Viktor, she hadn't felt it at all, making her wonder if that was the sort of thing she'd even enjoy. They kissed, but it was chaste, but kissing Fred was like opening an ocean upon them filled with fire and need.

They hadn't done the big sort of milestone yet, but mostly because all their they truly found only second in broom closets or moments before someone walked into where they were (and never really had the opportunity to go to his place without raising suspicion during the school year). She did feel like school-children with him, the fast-pace groping and grinding because they knew their time was limited. Not that it didn't illicit a sort of passion and feeling within her she did't know she possessed, such as the desire to break rules with Fred in the halls of Hogwarts, but nothing could compare to the feeling that they had all the time in the world upon their fingertips now.

"Bedroom." She panted, breaking away. Fred raised an eyebrow, but quickly replaced it with a delicious grin that was nearly irresistible. She had a feeling he wasn't going to complain.

She was the instigator here, although his kisses were just as needy, but she knew he was letting her set the pace of this sexual relationship, which she greatly appreciated. Half his clothes were already shucked off by the time he slammed his door shut, falling back onto the duvet with Hermione wrapped tightly around him. She was already fumbling with the buttons of her oxford.

This sort of procedure wasn't outwardly new to them; they'd taken off articles of clothing when they had more time, or at least unbuttoned things to see the treasures that lay beneath. There was a thought that perhaps she should be taking more time to examine and appreciate the sheer beauty of Fred Weasley and this tradition, but Hermione didn't know if she could be that patient now.

She did, though, take a moment to admire his tight abs and run a hand down his chest, making a soft coo of of pleasure in the back of her throat.

"Like what you see, Granger?" He asked.

"Mhh, immensely." She replied, and shivered as Fred's fingers slipped her shirt off, and in a swift motion, undid the back of her bra.

"Not fair I'm so undressed while you're like this." He said as he ran his fingers up where her bra-strap once was, "Leveling the playing field, if you will."

His voice was husky, and it reminded Hermione of dark chocolate. She gave a stifled gasp of pleasure just hearing it, and it sent of a chain reaction. He grew hard underneath her, where she sat, and unconsciously bucked up. Hermione felt her own body replying in the same way and they both gave a moan in unison.

He turned them over before she could register, so he now sat above her, running his hands up her sides and cupping his breasts as he leaned down to kiss her with everything that made her shiver with a inescapable need.

His kisses were trailing down her chest, and Hermione couldn't help but make tiny noises. He looked at her, eyes darkened.

"Merlin, if you keep doing that," He didn't even finish, but just shook his head. Hermione grasped his red hair and pulled his face back down toward hers. She knotted her fingers tightly, tugging a bit, and making him gasp against her for air. In his pause, she pulled him down on top of her so their exposed skin flushed against each other.

Once he was there, she took every ounce of Gryffindor courage and fumbled for the zipper, helping him pull both layers off his bottom half. This wasn't what needed the courage; she'd seen and touched him already, but it was the act of taking off both her skirt and her underwear a second after.

Fred paused, sitting up and looking down at Hermione carefully.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." She assured. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision either; no Hermione had been quite set out on making this milestone happen for about three weeks now, but had just never found the right amount of time with Fred. She craved it in fact, and more than that, she wanted it to be him. She gave a warm smile, "Happy Early Christmas?" She offered with a red blush.

Fred's fingers were already grasping for his wand to cast a birth control spell on her, grinning like an idiot.

"Best bloody Christmas present ever." He announced.

By the time they actually made it to the Burrow, both couldn't look at each other without hearing the other's moans or seeing the way their body moved without any clothes on. They crossed more than a few firsts that day, first in his room, and then in his living room when they attempted to make themselves lunch. Finally, Hermione had decided she needed a shower, but Fred had decided to join her and she was almost positive she came out of it dirtier than she'd entered, but it was such a marvelous day she couldn't be prompted to care.

It might have been for the best, because if they didn't see such things and need to avert their eyes, they might have found it hard to stay away from each other that night. But neither wanted anyone to know, once again, so they both tried very hard to interact with other members of the family that were not talking to both at once. Not that anyone would find it odd that Hermione hadn't talked to Fred at all that night, for no one knew they even had shared more than a passing conversation. But every time Hermione closed her eyes, she found it difficult to resist thinking of it all, and found herself extremely eager to repeat the experience.

In fact, more than one person commented that her mind was somewhere else, and asked what she was thinking of. She was thinking of Fred with nothing on, but she couldn't very well tell that to anyone, so instead she told them she was thinking about an assignment Binns had given them for the break. This was a reasonable 'Hermione' answer, and even if she did tell them about Fred she didn't think anyone would take her seriously, so her absent-mindedness was excused.

As the night was growing darker, and people started to leave to go to bed, Fred caught Hermione behind the stairwell, pulling her into the shadows.

"Fred!" She hissed in protest as he kissed her.

"Hermione, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you all night. Come back to my place with me; we still have tonight." He whispered against her neck.

"Someone would see. Probably your mother, or she'd know something is up if we both left. I'm supposed to be staying here."

"Wait until you go to bed. Put a silencing spell around your bed, then apparate to my place. You can apparate back to Ginny's room at like 8:30 AM. She's a heavy and late sleeper, she wouldn't ever notice." He said. She scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

"You've given this far too much thought." She accused.

"Guilty." He didn't seem all too upset.

"I can't." As much as Hermione wanted a repeat of earlier that day, she knew that Mrs. Weasley would chew her out if she found Hermione gone. And just their luck, tonight would be the night she randomly checked in on Ginny and Hermione.

Fred nodded, understanding. "Mum has a fifth sense for that sort of thing." He said, and she realized she'd said that last bit out loud, "I'll see you tomorrow then." He said, kissing her one last time, and popping away. She slid down against the wood, sighing in with content.

It was very good indeed that she did not go with Fred that night; it would have made it much harder to deny their relationship in the morning if they both arrived back suspiciously at the same time. And it was years since Fred had known Ginny, for as Hermione found out, the youngest Weasley woke 7:45 promptly; everyday she was informed. They would have been caught.

Hermione washed up and threw on her clothes for the day, and was the last one staying in the house down for breakfast around nine. When she approached, she heard whispers and slight arguing, and the frantic rustling of paper. It was very odd, and ever odder was as soon as she started to come close, the whispers stopped all at once. She was just about to turn the corner to the kitchen when George intercepted her.

"Oh, hello, George! When did you get back?" She asked.

"Not long ago." His smile was thin, forced, "Hermione, you enjoy reading the prophet in the mornings, don't you?" He asked, and she noticed it tucked (and extremely crumpled from going around many hands) tucked hastily under his arm. He was steering her away from the kitchen.

"Well, yes, but I'd like some coffee first." She said, frowning as he lead her far enough away from the kitchen so either of them wouldn't be heard anymore.

"Hermione, read the prophet." He said, throwing it to her. She caught it, and what was on the front page made her drop the paper entirely. Her hands shook as she picked it back up.

"What did-shit." Hermione said, whispering angrily, staring at the headline and the picture of herself and Fred and that damn look they gave each other.

"It's all rubbish, at least if I didn't know any better. She has no real founding in it, trust me, Mum read it out loud to as soon as she saw it." George said.

"Well, what do they think?"

"They don't know what to think." George said, running his fingers through his hair, similar to what Fred did when he was frustrated, "Were you and Fred planning on telling people?"

"No, not...now." Hermione stared at the page, "And not like this, if we were. I just, I don't know how your mom would react and Ron-Merlin, what would Ron say?" She groaned into her hands.

"This is why I brought you here. Fred knows you better than anyone and I know Fred better than anyone, so by something, I know you pretty well. You're an awful liar if you're put on the spot, so if you had just walked in there, it would all be over. Fred's good at it, we've had practice. If you know a head of time, I'm sure you can just convince them it's all hearsay." He said.

Hermione lifted her head. "You're right." She realized, the rock in her stomach dissolving, "Thanks." She said, still blushing, "Won't they notice we're gone long, wonder what this is about?"

"They're all too busy wondering if you and Fred have been dancing together under their noses, thinking back." He said, scoffing.

"But we have!" Hermione said, worried someone might figure it out, for real. George nudged her side, "Oh! I mean, that's crazy. Fred and I hardly know each other." She said, winking at George. He grumbled.

"Better."

George went first, taking the Prophet, and Hermione waited a couple seconds, breathing heavily and trying to convince herself that this was the first time she was going to hear this news, and it was totally unfounded. Even if they had been thinking of telling people, they couldn't now. Hermione didn't ever want to give Rita that sort of satisfaction. Frankly, they weren't ready. They agreed after the war, whenever that was. It was a good goal, a reasonable one. They could wait.

She entered the kitchen, yawning as though she'd just gotten up, and found all the eyes staring right at her.

"What? Do I have toothpaste on my chin?" She asked, as though she had no idea why.

"Hermione...is there something you'd like to tell us?" Ginny accused, and Hermione frowned.

"I don't think so?" She said, sitting down, and almost grabbed for the coffee pot. Then she realized her hand was shaking and kept it firmly under the table.

"Hermione, how could you? With my brother?" Ron said, and oh, it was that tone. No, she couldn't tell him, she realized, looking at Ron.

"Whatever are you talking about? And which brother? You have quite a few." She said, tilting her head.

"I take it you haven't seen the Prophet then." Mr. Weasley said uncomfortably, scooting it her way. She wondered how she should seem; totally shocked, blubbering incoherent at the news, or aloof? She read it carefully, as she thought, and then set it down...and laughed. It was a nervous laugh, to be honest, but she recovered it quickly.

"Oh, Rita." She said, tapping where the winking picture of Rita Skeeter was, "What will she come up with tomorrow?" She said, putting the main page on the table as she found the Politics section to read.

The whole Weasley Clan- plus Harry, sans George- exchanged looks.

"So...you're not...dating Fred?" Charlie questioned.

"Of course not." Hermione folded down her newspaper to give them a crazed look, "Have any of you ever seen me have a conversation with him that didn't involve me telling him off for doing something stupid or dangerous?"

This seemed to ease some people, mostly Ron, who looked much better than he had before.

"She has a point, you know." Percy said, who never seemed all too concerned about it in the first place.

"It's not true?" Ron asked again though, although he was sliding back down to a relaxed pose, "And you're not mad she wrote this?"

"Rita is so needy for attention, she'd write anything." Hermione shrugged, "I mean, did any of you really believe it?"

There was a chorus of 'no' from basically everyone at the table, and Hermione sat back, taking a muffin.

"Exactly. And if anyone is stupid enough to believe it, I mean, they can't argue with it from the source, right? You heard from me, we're not dating." She said.

"You seem rather calm about this whole thing." Harry observed softly.

"I am?" She was in fact very proud about how she was handing it, "Well, I guess I'm just tired of her fairy tales being sold as news articles."

The conversation lapsed back into normal things after that, such as upcoming Christmas plans. Hermione was glad, and soon, her hand stopped shaking. Fred popped into the dining room near the end of breakfast, later than everyone was expecting him.

"Sorry! I had a nasty spill at the shop today, it was no use calling you in George, just needed some cleaning up. What did I miss?" Everyone was silent for a moment, everyone daring each other to say it first, but Hermione did instead.

"Rita's latest article, Fred, in the prophet. Apparently, we're dating now...could you think of anything more ridiculous?" She asked, sliding the newspaper over to him. He caught her eye, and he knew her thoughts within a second.

"Bollocks." He snorted, holding up the page, "She does realize you're my little brother's best friend, yeah? And like three years younger? There are so many other more realistic pairs she could have imagined than us."

"That's what I said!" Ron jumped in quickly, "I mean, really! You and Fred, I've never heard anything more unlikely in my life." Everyone laughed. Hermione and Fred did too. While everyone was getting back to breakfast, Fred shot a casual grin at Hermione. That, for now, was simply enough.

It would soon be forgotten, the article. The occasional person would come up, asking if it was true, but like most of Rita's articles, the curiosity vanished within weeks. It wasn't long before no one recalled it again, but Hermione kept that article, because well...sometimes she just needed something that made her smile. It was also one of the only photos taken of the two of them that Hermione didn't take herself. The utter candidness of it was what really made Hermione's heart warm, and she could tell from that look that yes, she had truly loved him.

Harry knocked on her door. Hastily, she stuffed the article back into the box along with a ring box containing a ring that would never be worn to the altar, and stuffed it under her bed out of sight. She wiped her eyes, and opened the door.

"Harry?"

"Looking for the bathroom." He said meekly, "Thought this was it."

"Oh, well you can use the one attached to my bedroom, right through there." She said, hoping she hadn't been caught up in herself too much, "You want a butter beer?"

"Yeah, thanks." He didn't ask why she was in her bedroom instead of the kitchen, and she was glad. She brought out four, and drank half of hers before she'd sat down.

Sometimes she wondered how things would be different if they had just fessed up that day to it, told everyone the truth. Often, she wished they had. Then, she'd have someone to talk to about the agony of losing him, being able to mourn without it seeming odd, and everything else. More than that, she wanted people to know the had been each others, and had all these plans and war had taken it away from her. She wanted people to know she'd loved him. She thought about this as she handed out the butter beers, and sat herself on the couch.

"Ron?" She asked suddenly, cutting off the conversation they'd been having. Harry, Ron, and Ginny turned to her, "What would you have said if the article about me and Fred was true? You seemed pretty upset with it that day it came out." She said.

"I don't know." He scratched his head, "Back then, I guess I was upset. I fancied you a little. And well, I thought I knew my brother better than that, you know? If it came out now...if Fred were still alive..." He gulped painfully, "He never really had anyone back then, like a girl. He never seemed to want one, but it must have been lonely. I would be happy for him, even if was with you. I guess I've just grown up in that way."

"Why, Hermione?" Ginny asked, throwing her head back to look at Hermione on the couch. Perhaps it was the haze of the butter beer (she'd already had the entire bottle) or maybe it was that she was tired of keeping so much in, and sitting here with her friend she remembered what it was like to be truly happy, and she wanted that back, at least in part. That meant coming clean, being honest. She took a deep breath. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were looking at her with such concern, and in that moment, she had little fear to tell them anything.

She felt tears gather in her eyes, and she gave a grim smile. "I have to tell you all something, promise you won't be mad..."

**Author's Note:**

> How did you like the first chapter?
> 
> BTW I'm in the middle of writing my Dramione Epic (don't expect to see that for a VERY long time though lol) but I always need Dramione songs or songs that make you think of Draco/Hermione please put those in your review too! Eventually you may see your song used somehow!
> 
> Hope you beginning of school or wherever you may be are being taken as lightly as mine are (Clearly. Sleep? Sleep is for the weak!)


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